I don’t know how it all started. I’d say it was when I moved to England and I realised I could send postcards. Of course you can send postcards when you go on holidays, but seriously who finds the time? If you do, we share the same madness hobby.
I like postcards. I have a collection (I can hear you judging me). But I don’t just collect, what I like is to send them. When I moved to England I realised that I could send postcards to my friends and they would not feel sorry for me and think “she must have been so bored during her holidays to buy+write+post me a card.” I was living there indefinitely and their reaction would be different. I could imagine them, opening it, a beaming smile and a kind thought; “Isn’t she nice thinking of me awww”.
I sent a few postcards after only two weeks there, and the fact that I was visiting the city and going into lots of souvenir shops was not helping. I bought cards with photos on it, so my friends and family would have a mental picture of life in England, in case the word “Angleterre” was not already filling their heads with double decker buses and Union Jack flags.
But… you know in those souvenir shops, they sell funny cards, humorous cards. I’m an easy laugher, humour woes my heart. I bought too many funny cards, which most of the time when I go through my collection (which I do more regularly that I’ll admit), they make me question my sensibility to humour (I mean there has to be a line) and makes me give myself a good talking to (“Morgane I you start buying all the cat-making-a-funny-face-and-a-pun cards you’ll revive British economy all by yourself”).
But what started as harmless pastime last year became a craze around Christmas. I stayed in England for Christmas and too many conditions were met for me to give in to that craze ; countless Christmas cards everywhere, my loved ones far way, the Christmas spirit of joy and peace and the opportunity to share a Bible verse. I gave in extravagantly. My friends got Christmas cards, my family members got Christmas cards, the friends of my family members got Christmas cards… I could not hold back and I added to the insanity by putting chocolate coins in the envelopes. I’m not joking. Ask my friends.
And then Christmas was over and I was already obsessively looking out for my friends birthdays. “I’m pretty sure her birthday is in early February, I’ll check on Facebook.” It became uncontrollable, I started doing something that I called “card shopping.” “One of my friend’s acquaintance has a birthday coming up? I’ll go card shopping!”
But why? Why such a mania?
Is it the idea of doing something so simple that can be so personalised? If I’ve done it right the card says: I saw that card and I thought of you, it made me smile and it made me think about (insert shared memory). I bought the card at home and I took my favourite pen and thought of a personalised Christmas wish and a prayer or a Bible verse, (or just a “God bless you” because I’m not pushing it), and I hand wrote it with care. I looked for your address on my address book but nobody has an address book anymore, what I have is your phone number and your Facebook and maybe your email address if I tricked you into email correspondence but I don’t have your home address, so I had to ask someone I know knows your address or maybe I asked you, and I brought my card to the post office and sent it for a few pennies. For French people receiving my letters, they feel even more for me because they would imagine me at “La Poste” and maybe even shed a tear “I can’t believe she took a day off work for me”.
A Christmas card says “I care for you loads” and I do, and it also says, “I had lots of free time”.
Dear reader, do you want me to send you a card for Christmas? That’d be my delight. Send me your address by email, and wherever you are, the Christmas spirit will come to your door.